


feel it in my body, know it in my mind

by femmethem



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Divorce, F/F, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Pre-The Raven Boys, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, does this count as, not technically infidelity, oh gosh we're doing this we're writing milf4milf fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmethem/pseuds/femmethem
Summary: Maura Sargent definitely does not have a crush on the new mom at the co-op. She's just keeping an eye on her because she's suspiciously perfect and beautiful and nice and their kids get along surprisingly well. Aurora Lynch is straight and married and totally off-limits.
Relationships: Calla Lily Johnson/Persephone Poldma, Maura Sargent/Aurora Lynch
Comments: 22
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been talking about maurora for ages, and it's finally happening, folks. this is my first chaptered fic, and it will update sporadically! currently unemployed though, so hopefully i can make good progress on it. c: fic title is from maggie rogers' "love you for a long time." there is a milf4milf playlist, but it's still a work-in-progress. look out for that!

“Which one is yours?” The question comes from Maura’s right, where a woman with what she could only describe as ‘tresses’ of blonde hair has been placidly watching the crowd of screaming children for the past five minutes. 

Maura hasn’t seen the woman around the co-op before, which isn’t all that surprising. Maura is almost always late to pick up Blue, and Blue almost always finds it in her stubborn little heart to forgive her for this transgression. For such a young girl, Blue shows a great understanding of the thin line that separates their family from the rest of the community, an understanding that fills Maura with simultaneous pride and sadness. Blue hasn’t asked Maura to volunteer at the co-op since she was seven.

Maura feels a little guilty at the thought that she might be around more if she knew that any of the other parents were this gorgeous. She points to Blue, who is in the midst of telling off a boy who had been chasing her around with a booger on his finger. The woman laughs, and Maura is irked to discover that it sounds as clear and as lovely as her brilliant blue eyes. “Oh, I should have guessed! She looks just like you,” the woman says. She pauses, adds, “She’s cute.”

“Do you have any kids here, or are you just here to watch? Should I have seen you on Dateline?” Maura’s inability to make proper small talk is another reason that she doesn’t make much of an effort to show up on time.

The woman laughs again, and it is exactly the same, almost like a laugh track recorded once and then played over and over again. The tape hasn’t degraded at all though. It still sounds just as earnest as before. Maura’s eyebrow twitches. “I have three. Ronan and Matthew.” She points to the middle of the chaos, where a boy with dark, almost black, curls is dragging a tow-headed boy along the ground by his wrists. The blonde, younger boy is laughing delightedly even as his t-shirt and jeans get all scuffed up on the concrete of the community center basketball court. The woman does not seem worried. She redirects Maura’s focus to the fenced-in corner of the court, where an older boy deigns to look up from his thick chapter book to talk to one of his classmates. “Declan.”

“Three boys? You must be a saint.” 

“Hardly.” Pause. “I’m Aurora. Lynch.”

“Just a damn Disney princess then. Maura Sargent.”

They shake hands. Aurora’s hand is warm, soft, and well-moisturized even though her calluses hint at some amount of physical labor. Maura is just thankful that a decade of professional palm-reading has made her hands less clammy when meeting with attractive strangers. Back in the day, Blue’s father had made her palms sweat so much that they would leave a wet spot on his shirt when Maura tried to playfully grab his arm.

She feels an insight creep up on her like a bead of sweat falling down her spine, but she shakes it off as she lets go of Aurora’s hand. It was usually best to give people a chance to introduce themselves as they wanted to be seen before you started clairvoyantly stripping them down of all their pretensions.

“New in town?” she asks.

Aurora shakes her head, hair bouncing around her face. “Just to the co-op. We live over in Singer’s Falls, but there’s nothing closer. I was worried that the boys were getting a little too insular.”

“I can’t say this place will help much, but at least it gets you out of the house.”

“I certainly don’t do that enough.”

“Amen!”

Aurora chuckles, a little deeper, but it still follows that same delightful rhythm. She puts a hand over her white smile. Her eyes meet Maura’s intensely and her hand lowers. This particular gesture does strike Maura as almost mechanical, practiced somehow.

Aurora asks, “How do you spend your time? When you aren’t doing school?”

So no one had told her about the Sargent family. “This and that. I work from home, so there’s no escape on that front.” She isn’t sure why she skirts the truth. She’s not ashamed of her clairvoyance or how she makes her way in the world, but she won’t deny that polite conversation is harder with people who know.

Blue runs up to them then, resting her head against Maura’s ribcage. She whines, “Mom, can we go now? It’s three, and Jeremy won’t stop being a dillweed.” Maura might correct her manners, if Jeremy was not, in fact, such a dillweed. She wraps an arm around Blue’s small, tense shoulders, and turns to Aurora. Only a lifetime of practice stops her from gasping.

Aurora is still lovely, a rose-tinted vision in a soft blue dress, but her edges have turned filmy and insubstantial. She looks like an overhead transparency super-imposed on the crisp fall day around them. She looks like a ghost. Maura breathes sharply and removes her hand from Blue. Aurora’s form snaps back into a concrete shape. 

“Looks like I’m being summoned. It was nice to meet you, Aurora.” If her voice is hard, well, it usually is.

Aurora smiles and returns the sentiment. If she noticed anything odd about Maura’s behavior, she doesn’t show it. She stretches out one of those lovely hands to shake again, and Maura pretends she doesn’t see it. Maura has not detected an ounce of malevolence from the woman, but it’s still something of a personal policy of hers to not let unknown magical entities touch her. (As for known magical entities, she supposes Blue’s very existence speaks to her stance on that issue.)

Once they’re in the car, Maura rounds on Blue. “Have you seen that woman around before?”

“Mmhmmm. She’s the new boys’ mom. Ronan sucks, but he’s still better than most of the boys, I guess.” Blue fixes her with a pinched, critical look that Maura recognizes all too well from the mirror.

“She’s at the co-op a lot?”

“Well, yeah. Most people’s moms are.” Ouch. “She’s nice.”

“Most people’s moms don’t have a business to run. A business that puts food in your mouth,” she snaps. Blue’s expression sours further. Maura takes a deep breath and tries again. “Listen, Blue. I have a feeling about that woman.” Blue leans forward in anticipation. In spite of the hardship that the family gift and her personal lack of it has put on her, Blue is always eager for a taste of it. Maura is keeping a wary eye on that.

“There’s something about her that isn’t quite right. If you need something, ask one of the other parents, okay? Promise?”

“But what isn’t right? Is she a Republican?” Blue doesn’t really know what that means, but she’s gathered from Calla’s rants around the kitchen table that it’s one of the worst things a person can be.

Maura feels her mouth twitch, but she keeps serious eye contact with Blue. “I don’t know exactly. I wish I could tell you, kid. Promise me, though?”

Blue sighs like an old woman. She kicks her feet against the back of the passenger seat. “I promise.”

“Thank you, Blue.” Maura starts the car and gets them on their way home with only a little grumbling.

* * *

It’s already November when Maura runs into Aurora again. She had meant to keep a close eye on the situation, but October is a busy time for psychics, even in a town as small as Henrietta. Maura is feeling extremely weighed-down with single parent guilt, her inability to ever have both full pockets and adequate energy for Blue at the same time. There had been too many days recently where Jimi had taken Blue to the library to do her lessons online, too many days when picking up Blue from the co-op was just another checkmark on the convoluted carpool schedule.

She’s relieved when a regular client cancels their standing Thursday appointment due to a minor dental emergency. (Maura had warned him a few months back about the dangers of substituting lollipops for smokes, but he’d waved her off.) She makes it to the community center a whole fifteen minutes early. There’s no point waiting in the car since the heat doesn’t work, and she spots a familiar blur of blonde hair and rosy cheeks at the steps of the building that reminds her that she’s fallen behind on her snooping.

Maura thinks she manages to sidle up to Aurora casually, a feat made easier by her short stature. The other woman turns to her and smiles as if they’re actually friends. “Maura! It’s good to see you!” Her voice is even more pleasant than Maura remembered. It ought to be annoying, like a perky news anchor on local television, but it was more like the soothing narration of a book on tape.

“You as well,” Maura replies, “You’re not inside today?”

Aurora shakes her head with genuine regret. “A fence broke over in the south pasture. I had to get it fixed up, so the cows could graze.” Maura is still wary of Aurora after the notion she caught from her the last time, but damn, if the image of such a beautiful woman wielding a hammer doesn’t do something for her.

“No help from the mister?” Remember, she tells herself, normal housewife conversation.

“He travels a lot for work. The farm is mostly a passion project.” Maura makes a note of this, switches ‘nineties wardrobe’ over from the ‘working class’ column to the ‘overworked mom’ column. “Speaking of, has your husband been doing pickup? I haven’t seen you around lately.”

Maura smiles wryly. It’s best to get the unwed mother thing out of the way early. “I’m not married. Blue’s been carpooling with her cousins who go to the public school. It takes a village and all that.”

“That sounds lovely! Not that you don’t miss the time with Blue, but how nice it must be to have a community to fall back on. Niall-that’s my husband-isn’t close with his family.”

Aurora responds so naturally and with so little judgment that Maura almost doesn’t catch the odd half-truth at the end. She isn’t sure if it’s a psychic thing or a “nose for bullshit” thing (like her mother before her, she has both). What she doesn’t have is any social graces, apparently. She asks, “And your family?”

Her eyes flash a bright, watery blue before they crinkle in a sad smile. “Not much to speak of, I’m afraid. None here, at least.”

Maura feels like an asshole. She likes to stir up a little trouble, and she isn’t afraid to speak her mind, but she doesn’t like to intentionally prod people’s wounds, no matter how mysterious. That said, apologies aren’t her strong suit. “Sorry. I’m too nosy for my own good sometimes.” She attempts a self-deprecating smile, and when Aurora meets her eyes she can tell the other woman doesn’t hold it against her. She has a deeper sense that Aurora physically doesn’t have it in her to hold a grudge.

“It’s not always nosy to want to get to know people better.” All traces of Aurora’s brief sadness are gone. Tabula rasa. Maura feels a bit unnerved. Maybe she’s just too stubborn to understand someone so carefree. Aurora rushes on, “Listen, I know we’ve only spoken a couple times, but what would you say to a playdate? My boys are slow to warm up to people, but I’ve heard Ronan mention Blue a few times, and that’s practically a rave review from him!”

Maura wants to say no. She’s learned the art of excuses from the other side of the equation, from parents who are all too encouraging of their children’s blossoming friendship before realizing that Blue Sargent is the psychic’s daughter. But there’s something about Aurora. Maura realizes abruptly that both times she has spoken to her, Aurora was surrounded by other parents but not engaged in conversation with any of them. She’s charismatic and lovely and she could probably charm any of them. Nonetheless, something about her kept them at a distance, maybe the same something Maura saw the first time they’d met.

“Why not?” she says, throwing caution to the wind. “You said you live on a farm?” Aurora nods eagerly. “Blue does love animals. I’m sure she’d have a great time.” If nothing else, Blue can pet a cow and Maura can try to pick something up from the surroundings that explains the mystery of Aurora Lynch.

“It’s a date then!” She laughs, and Maura tries not to hear it as a warning siren.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maura takes Blue to The Barns for a playdate. The Lynch family farm sheds some light on Aurora's oddities, but it also brings up new questions. The visit is going well until several secrets try to unveil themselves.

Arriving at The Barns with Blue, Maura feels like a pinball bouncing off the walls of a neon hellscape. It’s utterly pastoral, beautiful in shades of green and brown and gold, and all of it is dripping with magic. Her senses can hardly catch on one thing before the next comes along and sweeps her off of her feet. The strangeness surrounding Aurora is simultaneously a hundred times more mystifying and more understandable now that Maura has gotten a glimpse of her home.

She’s relieved when she reaches the end of the unpaved driveway and no longer has to control the car while taking it all in. Getting out, Maura grounds herself with the feel of gritty dirt under her sneakers, the all-too-real smell of cow manure, and the sound of a screen door slamming. Once she has a moment to collect herself, she realizes that not  _ everything _ at The Barns is magic. Many of the raw materials are mundane, but they’re all bound together with a glimmering magical thread so powerful that it makes her teeth ache.

She looks to the farm house that the driveway deposited them at, and she sees Ronan skulking on the front porch, leaning on the porch railing and staring at them. As she and Blue approach, he turns tail and gallops inside, shouting “MOM! They’re here!”

Maura takes that as an invitation to follow and ushers Blue inside with her. They walk into a kitchen at least twice the size of the one at 300 Fox Way. For its large size, it feels equally crowded. The counters are overflowing with appliances and knicknacks. The fridge is plastered with art and photographs and lists and chore wheels. The large table still has plates from breakfast sitting on the surface, as well as separated newspaper sections, mail sorted into unknown categories, and a lazy susan boasting room temperature butter and multiple kinds of jam. The magic is a little easier to cope with here, where it feels more like the familiar brand that Maura grew up with.

Aurora’s youngest is sitting at the table with a piece of toast and the funny pages. His face is coated in purple, sticky jam. There’s even a spot of it on his forehead. “I’m Matthew!” he shouts, though they both definitely know that already. “Ronan didn’t sleep last night, he was so psyched.”

“Is that so?” Maura asks.

“Yup!” The pop of his “p” sends a glob of jam flying from his mouth onto the comics in front of him. If he notices, he does not care a lick. He stares at Blue for a thoughtful moment. “Do you have any cows at your house?”

She puffs up her chest proudly and says, “No. Most people don’t have any cows at their houses.”

“Huh.” He looks like he has genuinely never considered this possibility. “That’s weird.”

Blue rolls her eyes. “ _ You’re _ weird.”

“Am not!”

Ronan arrives back in the kitchen just in time to throw out an “Are too!” punctuated with a noogie. Aurora trails after him calmly. She is wearing an honest-to-god apron.

“Not at the table,” she says. Maura can imagine she says it about twenty times per meal, but she still sounds earnest and sweet. Ronan uses this as an excuse to drag Matthew backwards from the table via headlock, narrowly avoiding concussing him on the edge of the counter. “Welcome, Blue. Maura. Sorry the house is such a mess! I thought we might spend most of the day outside.”

Blue waves hello, but Maura can tell she’s still conflicted about the abruptness of this visit after the warning given to her about Aurora.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see another mom be  _ human _ for once,” Maura assures her. Aurora beams at her. She unties her apron and hangs it up on a peg by the door. She trades it out for an oversized wool cardigan, a beautiful cream-colored mens cable knit. She tugs on a pair of rubber boots more elegantly than Maura could do just about anything.

“It might be a bit muddy, I’m afraid, but it seems like you both dressed well for it. I like your scarf, Blue!” Blue smiles brightly and wraps the chartreuse scarf tighter around her neck. It’s the first thing she’s managed to crochet by herself, and she’s immensely proud of it. “Boot up, Ronan, Matthew.” 

While they scramble to get into their coats and boots, Aurora goes to wet the corner of a dishtowel. She brings it over to rub gently at Matthew’s sticky face. He hardly notices, continuing to lean this way and that to stuff his arms into a bright yellow parka. Aurora seems to anticipate all of his motions, and soon his face is as clean as can be. “Declan will either join us when he feels like it, or he won’t,” she says over her shoulder as she sets the towel down on the lip of the sink, “He’s reaching that age.”

Ronan scowls, “He’s always like that.” He looks at Blue for approval, who nods.

“Well, regardless. Shall we?” Aurora asks as she comes to stand next to Maura by the door.

They trek out to the farthest pasture first, where they find about 15 cows grazing, sleeping, and huddling together around a tiny cluster of trees. Almost all of the cows are bright with magic, like spotlights hanging from the ceiling of a theater. It’s hard for Maura to look at them, so she watches the children instead.

Blue is trying to act cool, but Maura can tell she is awestruck by The Barns, both by the animals and by the air of magic so thick that even Blue can sense it. Ronan introduces her to his favorite cow, Riptide, with anger in his voice, an unspoken challenge that Blue can either think this cow is cool or she can leave. Blue climbs up onto the fence to pet Riptide’s soft brown nose, and Ronan deflates just like that. She wonders if Aurora can see how similar they are, how special they are.

There is a light in Aurora’s eyes, a pride that floods all six of Maura’s senses. Aurora turns to Maura, and her delight does not fade a fraction. Maura’s face fills with warmth. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I think the playdate might be a success,” Aurora whispers to her.

“I think you might be right,” she replies softly.

Matthew bursts out in an atrocious, improvised song to one of the cows who has come to the fence to see what the fuss is about, and Blue does a little dance for the gathered cattle. Ronan climbs and straddles the fence, leaning over to bump noses with a lovely brown cow with white spots and white eyelashes.

Aurora rummages in her pocket for a moment before pulling out a little sandwich baggie of apple slices. She hands one to Ronan and says, “How about you show Blue how it’s done, all right?” She distributes several to Blue and Matthew and offers one to Maura with a cheeky grin that Maura wants to fold up and put in her wallet. She takes it, and their fingertips brush against each other. The same magic that’s in the air and in the land is in that touch. Questions that she has no clue how to answer spin and whirl in her mind. Did Aurora make all this? How? Who is she really?

Maura is brought back to the moment by Blue squealing in a way she usually only does when one of her aunts picks her up off the ground and spins her around. She has her palm open, flat, and a cow is licking her skin as if another apple will materialize there. “Mom! Mom, you have to try this!”

She approaches the fence a little cautiously. For all the years she’s spent living in rural-ish Appalachia, Maura has managed to avoid everything distinctly rural about the area. She’s used to seeing cows at a distance, from the highway, and they’re a hell of a lot bigger than they seem. When she raises her clenched fist, Ronan leans over and opens her fingers with a small, apple-sticky hand. “Flat or they’ll bite your fingers off,” he says. Maura thinks he might be joking, but she really can’t tell. For some reason, her heart is beating fast, and her face feels flushed.

She offers the apple slice to the first cow who comes sniffing, and she feels its wet nose and little tickly hairs across her skin before the shock of the wettest, roughest tongue she’s ever felt reaching out to suck in the apple. Even though she was expecting it, she can’t help but shriek. “Good lord, buy me dinner first,” she says, leaning down a little to look the cow in the eye.

Maura steps backwards and wipes her slimy hand off on her jeans. The kids take care of distributing the rest of the apple while she and Aurora stand back and watch. It gives her a chance to get back to her main goal here: snooping.

“So,” Maura asks, “How long have you all lived here?”

Aurora takes a moment to think. “Hmm. Niall and I got the property when we first got married, so it must be, gosh, almost 13 years? There wasn’t anything here, not even the house. It’s been growing right alongside the boys.”

“That’s sweet.”

Aurora hums agreeably. “Have you been in Henrietta your whole life?”

“God, no. I grew up in West Virginia, but the moment I could, I tried to get as far away as possible.” She’s managed to distract Aurora from the kids, and she’s staring back at Maura with an oddly hungry look on her face. It looks out of place on her sweet, contented features. She wants to keep sharing, to draw out more of that hunger. “I thought I’d wind up halfway across the world, but something about Henrietta just drew me in. Like quicksand.”

“Niall always says there’s something in the water here.”

“In the dirt, more like.”

“For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,” Aurora mumbles.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Matthew calls, grabbing onto Aurora’s hips urgently. “Is there any more apple?” 

Aurora’s face goes blank. She puts her hand over her mouth, and then drops it. Just like that, her normal smile is back. She takes hold of Matthew’s hyperactive hands and says, “No, dear. We don’t want them getting too much sugar. How about we show Blue and Ms. Maura some of the other things we have here?”

His eyes go wide. “Oh, like-”

“How about some of the plants? The ones we’ve been growing?” she interrupts.

They get the kids moving, and Aurora leads the way with Matthew’s hand still in hers. They round the corner of one of the eponymous barns, and come across a fenced-in pumpkin patch. Maura thinks it must be late in the season for pumpkins, but they look spectacular. They’re all a vibrant orange and at least the size of a basketball. Most are even bigger.

“I’ve never planted a squash that didn’t grow like a weed! A few years back, we tossed the seeds we had from making jack-o-lanterns out here to see what would happen, and they’ve grown absolutely wild. Most of the work is actually in keeping them contained,” Aurora explains.

“Did you carve some of them this year?” Blue asks.

“I carved a big, bloody fang on mine,” Ronan says proudly.

A new voice cuts in to say: “Is that what it was? I couldn’t tell.” Maura looks up to see Declan walking from the direction of the house. He looks unsuited to his surroundings in his puffy vest and corduroys, but his approach smooth, silent approach speaks to his familiarity.

Ronan huffs and whispers to Blue, “It totally did, he’s just mad because his pumpkin looked like crap.”

“Language,” Aurora chides gently.

“MY pumpkin had Pikachu on it!” Matthew says.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool,” Ronan concedes. “Did you make jack-o-lanterns?”

Blue shakes her head. “No. I helped some of my little cousins with theirs though. We don’t do a lot for Halloween.”

“That sucks. We don’t even get trick-or-treaters since there’s no one nearby!”

“That  _ does _ suck. At least we get trick-or-treaters.”

Aurora steps forward and leans through the slats of the wooden fence to examine some of the pumpkins. “Most of these are ripe, actually. Would you like to take one home?” She glances at Maura for approval, who nods. “Either for decoration or baking- though the best ‘pumpkin’ flavor actually comes from butternut squash, in my opinion.” 

Blue nods excitedly and comes to stand next to Aurora to look at the selection. She points at one of the smaller pumpkins, a modest choice. “Could I have that one?”

“Of course!” Aurora smiles. “Declan, would you mind lending a hand?”

Aurora starts to twist the vine, a few inches from where it meets the pumpkin. Declan steps forward with a shiny pocket knife, which he flicks open confidently. The stem is still green, thick, and fibrous, so he has to saw at it for a moment to get through. He hands the pumpkin over to Blue, who hugs it to her chest like a treasure. It’s bigger than her head, and she’s clearly struggling, but she asks for no help. Declan puts away the knife with a quiet  _ snick _ , and he goes back to looking bored.

“We’ll have to get the rest later,” Aurora says, standing and dusting off her hands on her light-wash jeans. She looks like a model in an L. L. Bean catalogue spread. 

Maura thinks she might faint. She looks at the pumpkin patch and takes a deep breath to ground herself. “That’s a crap load of pumpkins. Crap load of pumpkin pie,” she observes.

“And pumpkin bread,” Aurora adds. “We’ll freeze what we can, and we’ll try to give away the rest. Maybe I’ll talk to my friend at the farm store about stocking some.”

Maura nods, like she knows anything about the business of running a hobby farm. She tries not to think about how Aurora is probably dumbing things down for her and Blue, how Aurora probably has a wealth of specialized knowledge that Maura would hypothetically find very attractive. If she weren’t talking to a straight, married mother from the co-op, of course.

“Shall we continue the tour?” Aurora asks. The kids cheer, and Maura keeps nodding dumbly.

They follow a path between two fenced-in pastures, and take in the landscape while making quiet small talk. The sun is starting to climb higher in the sky, making the November chill a little more tolerable. Its light bathes the fields in gold and makes the wooden sheds and barns glow practically white. As majestic as the rural scene is, the mud below their feet is thick and tacky. They stick to the edges of the path, where humans and cows haven’t completely obliterated the scrubby remnants of grass.

As they walk, the kids strike up their own conversation.

“Why are there so many barns? Don’t most farms have just one?” Blue asks.

Ronan scoffs, almost 5 feet of pretentious disdain. “That’s only how it is in like, books for babies. There’s gotta be room for all the cows and all the equipment and all the other junk.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Blue argues, “It’s not like I know a lot of farmers.”

They continue bickering as they walk ahead of the rest of the group, but the tone seems good-natured enough that Maura doesn’t intervene.

Aurora bumps her side with a gentle elbow, and Maura turns to look at her. Her face is flushed from the wind, and her eyes are bright. “Sorry to burden you with a pumpkin,” she murmurs, low so the kids don’t hear her. “I know how attached they can get to things like that. Once Ronan was absolutely besotted with this onion I bought at the farmers market, of all things. He cried when I turned it into spaghetti sauce.”

Maura smiles, as much at the sweet story as at the obvious love in Aurora’s voice. “It’s really not an issue. And hey, she’ll probably sleep like a rock after lugging that thing around all day.”

“Oh, anything to get them to sleep! This one is shaping up to be quite the insomniac,” she says, gesturing to Declan. He smiles tightly at her, shoulders drawn up, the universal sign for ‘I’m twelve, and if you talk about me, I will spontaneously combust.’

Yelling from up ahead draws their attention away. Blue has dropped her pumpkin to the ground, and is snapping at Ronan with her hands on her hips. Ronan is leaning away from her, trying to look disinterested, but his hands are curled into little fists.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Maura calls. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing!” Ronan cries. “I just-”

“He said you’re a witch and that that means I’m a witch too! And that I’m gonna get a wart on my nose soon!” Blue argues.

Aurora places a soothing hand in Ronan’s curls. Maura tries to get Blue to turn towards her, but her glare is fixed on Ronan.

“Ronan, did you really say that?” Aurora asks sternly.

He crosses his arms and looks at the ground. He admits, “Only because everyone else says it.”

Aurora prompts, “And is that a good reason to repeat it?”

“It’s not even true! She’s a psychic, not a witch! Witches are  _ evil _ ,” Blue says.

Maura sighs and leans down to look Blue in the eye. “Blue, I know it hurts sometimes when people say ignorant things. It happens more often than you’d like, and even from people you really like. You can’t blow up at all of them, right? You have to save some of your energy for you.” She’s irritated that the subject has come up in front of Aurora, but she tries to keep her voice calm and clear.

Blue nods, but Maura can still see the gears working away in her mind, processing Maura’s words and coming up with a rebuttal. Across from them, Aurora and Ronan are having their own conversation. It looks to be going about as well as her own.

Just as Blue opens her mouth to respond, the air pitches and heaves, and the trees whisper with wind in a way Maura hasn’t heard in over a decade. The sound gives way to the rumble of tires on gravel. Aurora startles with the most troubled expression Maura has ever seen on her face. Her mouth is frozen, but her eyes are wide and her brow is scrunched up. Maura is annoyed to find out that even her forehead wrinkles are devastatingly cute.

The whole party turns to look down to the driveway, where a sporty black car is incoming at a breakneck speed. Ronan and Matthew cheer, and they begin to race through the high grass towards the farm house, weaving back and forth in a chaotic serpentine. Declan sighs and stays where he is at the rear of the group. Maura and Blue turn questioningly to Aurora.

“That’s Niall, their dad. He wasn’t due back for another week.” She says. Her mouth is trying to form a smile, but the effort is ruined somewhat by her worried tone. She glances back at Declan.

Blue tugs on Maura’s sleeve like a much younger child. “It’s good, right? That he’s back early?” she asks. Maura is unsure which of them she’s really asking.

When Aurora turns back to them, her smile is fully in place. “Of course it is! It  _ is _ good. We’ve all missed him. Let’s go down and say hello, all right?” She wraps an arm around Declan’s shoulder and leads the procession down through the fields. Blue picks up her pumpkin with a little help from Maura and follows after. Ronan and Matthew are already at the car, shouting and jumping around it as a man emerges from the driver’s side.

“I’m afraid we might have to cut our visit short, though. Niall often comes home from his business trips bone tired. I doubt he’s up to company.” Maura detects an edge to her voice that might not actually be audible to other ears. When she makes eye contact with Aurora, the other woman turns up her smile a few watts. “I’ll make sure Ronan apologizes next time, Blue. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, he pretty much ran away from me, huh?” Blue says, her own smile starting to come back at the thought of Ronan’s apparent cowardice.

“I try to teach these boys manners. It’s the cows that undo all my hard work, I swear.” Blue giggles, and Declan sighs again.

They come upon the car, a BMW so obviously well-kept that it makes Maura a little self-conscious of her dinged and mud-splattered Ford Taurus. They might even be from the same year, but only one is showing its age. The man standing next to it is handsome in a way that never really appealed to Maura personally, a little like Jude Law if he’d been put through a pencil sharpener and come out with fewer dimples and better hair. He has Matthew riding on his shoulders and Ronan circling him like an eager puppy.

Blue hides a little bit behind Maura, peeking out at Niall with the same curiosity she had shown the farm animals.

Aurora goes to him with her hands raised to gently cup his face. Maura looks away when they kiss and spots Matthew and Declan sticking their tongues out at each other in exaggerated disgust. Ronan looks up at his parents with a breathless smile. Aurora mutters something to her husband, looking chastened in a way that makes something in Maura’s gut writhe.

They come to walk over to Maura and Blue, and Niall slips an arm around Aurora’s back, squeezing her waist tight. His other hand stabilizes Matthew’s legs as they swing around his neck. “Well, if it hasn’t been a minute since we had visitors,” he says. His accent surprises her, loose and liquid and lyrical “I’m Niall.” 

“Maura.” They do not shake hands. “This is Blue.” When she touches Blue’s arm, she readies herself for an insight that does not crystallize. A metallic, bitter taste floods her mouth, and she has to clear her throat discreetly. There’s some sort of wall around this man, something more than the way he has drawn his family around himself like a cloak. Even Declan has fallen into place behind him, though they haven’t explicitly acknowledged each others’ presence.

The whole Lynch family is staring at them expectantly. Maura adds, “You have a beautiful home.”

“It’s turned out well enough. Mostly this one’s doing.” Niall squeezes Aurora’s side again.

“She certainly doesn’t slack off.” Another awkward pause passes. Maura starts to dig out her keys. “Well, we have to get going, unfortunately. We’ll leave you to your family time. Blue, say goodbye to the boys.”

“Bye. See you at co-op.” The boys respond with a chorus of goodbyes in various levels of enthusiasm.

“Goodbye, Aurora. I’ll see you around?” Aurora nods, but only after a glance at Niall that makes Maura’s “Nice to meet you,” ring more than a little hollow.

Luckily the BMW hasn’t parked her in, so there’s no awkward rearranging of cars necessary. They pop the pumpkin in the backseat next to Blue. They buckle themselves up in silence, and slowly wind up the driveway the same way. In the rearview mirror, Maura watches Niall set Matthew down and open the trunk. His body blocks the interior. Then they take a curve around a bank of evergreens, and the farm house, the family, and the car are all out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoohoo howdy! a decently long chapter this time around. i love women. i love kid shenanigans. i love farm tourism. there's a reference to an old short story of my sister's in here (about a little boy who falls in love with an onion and names it HENRIETTA). uhHhhHhhhh that's all i got.
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first chapter!!!! i really appreciated the warm reception
> 
> next chapter: maura has concerns. aurora peels back the curtain (a tiny bit).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their visit's abrupt ending, Maura seeks Aurora out for a one-on-one conversation. Both of them have confessions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this one, guys!!! the good news is that i already have half of the next chapter written, so it shouldn't be as long before the next update. i have a playlist for this fic, [listen here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7CWrYR4JJEep1PKziGWHrp)
> 
> cw/tw for implications of abuse (check the end notes for details)

Aurora is not by nature a very anxious person, but she spends her Tuesday at the co-op preoccupied by the huge, industrial, caged-in clock of the community center. Minutes are passing by in the blink of an eye, and it’s making her heart race.

If she’s honest with herself, she knows her sense of time is never the best. When she’s not careful, she can get lost staring at a single cloud inch across the sky or watching a ladybug climbing a blade of grass at a glacial pace. The other moms who help out at the co-op often despair at her lack of time management. But today is a unique torment.

It must be her separation from Niall-- the short goodbyes always feel harder when he’s freshly returned from a long trip. Life develops a rhythm in his absence, and it all goes haywire for a bit when he comes back. The whole family had even skipped co-op last week to spend more time together.

But if she’s so anxious to be reunited with him, why is she so dreading the end of the school day? They make her head hurt sometimes, these spiral-shaped thoughts. It’s easier to let it all slip away and just act according to others’ feelings, not her own. Today, however, she keeps grabbing onto the thought trails. She doesn’t want to let the day slip away.

Despite Aurora’s best efforts, time marches onward, and soon they’re walking the kids down the hallway in a disorganized gaggle (the other moms always says lines are hierarchical and suffocating). Some of the kids run to meet their parents, others dilly-dally in the hall to avoid saying goodbye to their friends. Her own boys are playing a half-hearted game of bloody knuckles a ways from the doors, waiting for her to be finished supervising pick-up.

She spots Maura almost immediately. Her black hair pops against her tan jacket. If she’s not careful, she gets lost trying to trace a single strand of hair from the root, through its tight curl, to where it brushes against Maura’s chest. She tries to busy herself making sure Jackie has both her mittens and Ryan didn’t leave his precious Pokemon cards in the big room, to communicate to Maura that she can’t talk today. Regardless, she still feels that tug in her belly to return attention when it is given to her.

The feeling of Maura’s eyes on her makes her skin crawl, but not necessarily in a bad way. When Aurora turns to look, she sees Maura standing on the wide, stone steps of the front entrance, having a casual conversation with Blue. She glances up at Aurora frequently, and her jaw tenses when they make eye contact. Maura waves her over and sends Blue away with the car keys clutched in her little hand. Aurora’s feet carry her over before she’s made a conscious decision to move.

“Hello, Maura. It’s good to see you.” She lets her face melt into a comely smile, lets the familiar movement of muscle whisk her reservations away. She can lean into useless pleasantness, all manners and no substance.

Maura doesn’t smile back, and it feels like a blow to Aurora’s armor. It’s holding steady, but it’s been invisibly weakened somehow. She speaks in a low, serious tone, “I wanted to talk to you. I had a feeling- I just wanted to check in.”

“Check in? Is something the matter?”

“Is it?”

“Maura, I’m sorry if something about the visit upset you, but there really isn’t anything I can do unless you tell me.”

Aurora doesn’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the other woman gives her the stink eye. She sees it often enough on Ronan and Declan. Maura’s eyes, though, are such a warm, deep brown, so unlike hers or any of the boys’. It softens the look into one of mere frustration. She can practically hear Maura counting out a deep breath-  _ inhale 1-2-3-4, exhale 1-2-3-4. _

Her voice is much calmer when she says, “Listen, I should get going. Blue is going to start honking the horn at me any minute.” She passes over a simple white business card, the kind she’s taught the kids to make in Microsoft Word. “Can we get coffee? Maybe Thursday?”

“I might have to stay here,” Aurora says, “if there aren’t enough parents to help out. I’ll let you know.”

Maura bites at her cheek. “Fine, just give me a call.”

“I will. Goodbye, Maura.”

“Yeah, bye,” she says, as she shoves her hands in her pockets and darts away into the near-empty parking lot. Brown leaves skitter across the pavement behind her.

Aurora lets out an enormous sigh, but there is no relief in it. All she’s done is postpone the inevitable. She looks at the business card in her hand.

_ Psychic Readings _

_ 300 Fox Way _

_ (888)XXX-XXX _

A second number with a local area code has been scrawled at the bottom in blue pen. She should have known better than to think she could deter Maura Sargent when she had a bone to pick.

* * *

It takes her until Wednesday evening to call and agree to coffee in the morning. Aurora can make her excuses: there really is more to do when Niall is home, not less, and the boys all get riled up by his presence in their own unique ways. But it all boils down to her being hesitant to talk to someone for what feels like the first time in her existence. 

The call itself is simple enough, once she’s finished being passed from woman to woman, all of them wanting to know who she is and how she knows Maura and whether or not she knows where her youngest son’s galoshes are. They arrange to meet after drop-off at a gas station-slash-bakery on the edge of downtown Henrietta that really does have a delicious apple strudel.

She winds up dashing in five minutes late, feeling like a drowned rat. A violent thunderstorm had started up before the sun rose, requiring all the cows to be put away, and usually beatific Matthew had started crying at the prospect of having to leave the house without his green polka dot rain boots. Her hair is soaked to her skull, her shoes are squelching water onto the door mat, and her brain is running in frantic circles trying to find a way to  _ fix _ it, to make everything  _ all right _ again, even though the only person inconvenienced is her.

Maura is waiting at a little formica table for her. Heaven help Aurora, she looks perfectly composed and totally dry. She might even be wearing lipstick, a nude shade that most people wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry I’m late!”

“No worries. I haven’t ordered yet. You okay?”

Aurora nods, but it feels more like an indecisive bobble. “I’ll be fine after I sit a minute,” she decides. “One of those mornings.”

“How about I go order, and you take a moment?” Maura asks.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that!” Aurora takes care of other people. She finds herself oddly off kilter on the rare occasions when the tables are flipped.

Maura waves her off. “Consider it repayment for Blue’s pet pumpkin.”

Aurora smiles at the precious memory of little Blue carrying that huge pumpkin. “Okay,” she says, bemused, “Thank you. I’ll take an apple strudel and a glass of milk.” The corner of Maura’s mouth lifts when she asks for milk, and then she walks away.

She takes the opportunity to shrug off her soaked jacket and to try to restore some order to her chest-length hair. Aurora considers the other woman as she steps up to the register and speaks to the elderly woman sitting behind the counter. When Maura answers her polite inquiries, her accent comes out stronger, ever so slightly different from the local drawl. Her brown hands grip the edge of the counter, and she rocks from her toes onto her heels. She always strikes Aurora as so real, so  _ unscripted _ , in a way that Aurora thinks she’ll never manage, no matter how long she lives in this world.

When she sits back down, she props both of her elbows on the table and leans conspiratorially toward Aurora. “Busy morning? Was Niall much help?”

“I don’t think we’d have made it out of the house at all if he hadn’t gotten the cows put away while I got the kids ready.” She doesn’t particularly feel like making small talk about Niall, but she definitely doesn’t want to have whatever conversation Maura brought them here to have.

“It’s good to have him back, then,” Maura says. It’s a simple statement, but there’s a question in her eyes. “Maybe it was just me, but it seemed like things were a bit awkward when he showed up the other day.”

“Not at all! I just wasn’t expecting him, so I was a bit thrown.” Aurora says. She considers for a moment and decides Maura probably won’t be satisfied. “He’s not too fond of visitors, either, and I didn’t get a chance to mention it to him beforehand. His work can be… unpredictable, so he can’t call every night.”

Maura twists a paper napkin between her thumb and forefinger, and stares at it almost studiously. Without looking up, she says, “It sounds like you have to work around him a lot.”

She can understand how an outsider would think that, knowing only his bizarre schedule and his demands for privacy. It’s not an unjustified observation, but is an incomplete one. “We both make compromises. That’s how marriage works, isn’t it?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Maura says breezily.

Aurora feels a rush of guilt for her thoughtlessness, but her thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of their food. Her apple strudel is warm and steaming, her glass of milk cold and budding with condensation. Maura gets a bear claw and a large mug of coffee. She doesn’t look offended, but there’s always the possibility that she’s keeping it concealed until the bakery woman is gone. However, she has a hunch that Maura isn’t someone who’s easily offended, nor someone who puts on airs.

They’re quiet for a moment as they enjoy the first bites of their pastries. The woman running the bakery has retreated into the kitchen, and they’re the only customers in the place. Maura speaks in a hushed voice anyway. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, since it seemed like our visit put a bee in his bonnet. That I hadn’t made things harder for you.”

Aurora’s first instinct is always to reassure. “No, absolutely not!”

“He doesn’t mind that we’re seeing each other today?”

Aurora stares at her for a moment. Blinks. “Why would he mind?”

“I mean,” she hisses, “Are you okay? Safe?”

It’s like Maura is speaking a different language entirely. Aurora knows what the words mean, but they’re laced with some second meaning that she can’t parse. “Yes?” she answers.

“With Niall?” Maura asks, making significant eye contact. She has such kind eyes, even when she’s concerned or sarcastic or angry.

It hits Aurora like a cow stepping on her foot. “Oh! Oh, yes, Maura.” She pauses for a moment, stunned. “You thought- oh my god, no! We’re perfectly happy. For all his faults- no, never.”

Maura eyes her critically, a single dark eyebrow raised. “Hmmm,” she says. Then she sits back in her chair and takes a long sip of her coffee. Her posture reads like a shrug. “Okay”

“You thought that? And you’re letting it go just like that?”

“Well,” Maura considers, “I believe you. I have no reason not to.”

Aurora is reminded suddenly of the little card Maura had handed her, of the things that Ronan had said when the Sargents had visited the Barns. A cold feeling sinks into her bones, a suspicion that feels unnatural in her hands that were specifically made to nurture. “You believe me? Or you  _ know _ ?”

The other woman’s expression goes sharp in an instant. “Oh, are we addressing the magical elephant in the room? Who’s up first?”

Aurora’s skin prickles, and she can feel her cheeks flush. The only good thing about her disaster of a morning is that it had overwhelmed any anxiety she had about the possibility of this conversation. “Maybe we both could have been more forthcoming,” Aurora admits. But she’s not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. ”I’m sure you of all people understand the need for a bit of subtlety though. Suppose you hadn’t turned out to be who you are, and I’d just come right out with it.”

“I’m a professional psychic, there’s not much use for subtlety,” Maura quips. Softer now, she bites her cheek and fiddles with her mug. “You’re right, though. It’s a game of chicken.”

Their eyes meet. Maura raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘Still playing?’ Aurora nods her head in the other woman’s direction. Maura smiles. One of her eye teeth is chipped a little bit, enough to give her smile some character. She wants Maura to go first, to give herself a moment longer to work out what she’s going to say, how much she’s willing to confess. Niall had prepared her for deception, infiltration, even out-right attack. He had never thought to warn her about homeschooling psychics with beautiful brown eyes and odd smalltalk.

Maura throws her hands up. “Fine! You know the important part already, though. What else is there to say?”

It’s hard for Aurora to keep up with the conversation, to play the part of interrogator while she’s trying to draft her own responses to Maura’s inevitable questions. It becomes apparent that she has to tease out how much Maura knows if she’s going to tell the right story. “How does it work? You just look at someone and know everything about them?”

“Boring! That’s a boring question.” She seems to consider it seriously anyway. “Usually I have to dig a bit to get anything concrete. I just get feelings, notions. It helps to use a tool like the tarot or a scrying bowl.”

“Did you? Use anything like that to learn about us?”

Maura leans forward, and she speaks slowly and clearly. Those kind eyes of hers gleam with a quiet dignity. “Absolutely not. I was curious, but I never went prying like that.” Her mouth twitches, like she can’t be earnest for too long without breaking. “I’m plenty nosy, but I try to stick to mundane methods unless the situation calls for it.”

“So how did you decide there was something magical going on?”

“I was trying to be on my best behavior, but I can’t ignore magic when it’s basically doing a striptease and throwing its underwear at my head, “ she snorts.

Aurora laughs in spite of herself. It’s partly for Maura’s sake, who looks very pleased with herself, but she’s also genuinely shocked and amused. Where Maura she get this stuff? She shakes her head and takes a bite of strudel to collect herself.

Maura speaks again, “Henrietta has some pretty major mojo. It amplifies psychic abilities and makes weird characters show up from time to time. I’ve never seen anything like The Barns though.”

She supposes it’s her turn now. She has some idea what she’s going to say, but the details are fuzzy, and she can only hope that Maura won’t pick up on any lies by omission. “We’re in a bit of a precarious situation, so I have to trust that you’re not going to use any of this against us. Everything I am, everything I do, it’s all for the boys. Whatever happens to Niall and I, I have to make sure they’re protected.” 

Aurora pauses to let the warning sink in. She knows that she tends to think the best of people, but she knows Maura would ever do anything to endanger three innocent children. She’s seen how she is with Blue. Once Maura is alert and keyed in, Aurora continues.

“You’ve probably worked out that Niall is involved in some business that isn’t strictly legal. He deals in artifacts- powerful magical objects. There are people who would do just about anything to get their hands on these things. Some of them are at The Barns, others Niall has hidden places only he knows. I think that may be what you picked up on.”

It’s the truth, or at least a version of it. It’s what Niall tells almost all of his contacts. She suspects he wouldn’t even have told her the entire truth had she not known from the start- they’ve never actually spoken explicitly about the dreams. Aurora watches Maura carefully for her reaction. She seems intrigued; she hasn’t touched her food since Aurora started her spiel. She displays none of the signs of doubt or dismissal that Aurora has learned to look out for in their short acquaintance: quirked brow, wrinkled nose, tense jaw.“Hopefully you can understand why I’m not more forthcoming with the details,” Aurora finishes.

“I can appreciate the need for discretion, sure,” Maura allows, “but I can’t say that I’m not still curious as hell.” She and Aurora lock eyes for a moment. The playful light is back in her expression which Aurora takes as a positive sign.

“I’ll let you have your remaining secrets,” Maura says before taking a large bite of her pastry. Mouth full, she smirks, “For now.” When she chews, her cheeks round out like a hamster in an adorable way that takes any and all of the bite out of her playful threat.

“I do have one more question,” Aurora says. Maura nods, eyes wary. “What did Blue name her pumpkin?”

Maura laughs, sharp and clear. Something about the way she tosses her head to the side almost reminds Aurora of Niall, back in the beginning when it was just the two of them and Declan, before they had even really fallen in love. With a chuckle in her voice, Maura answers, “Medusa. She’s going through a mythology phase.”

They finish their food over more light chitchat. Even though Aurora had been dreading this meeting, now that the hard part is over, she doesn’t want to leave. It feels just as easy as their first conversations, only now the tension has eased because they’ve cleared the air somewhat. Soon enough though, she has to excuse herself to get back to the community center to relieve one of the other mothers. When she’s seated in the front seat of the car, she can see Maura sitting alone at their table through the window. Aurora watches her absentmindedly stir her coffee while stares into the distance, and she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw/tw: After her brief interaction with Niall, Maura worries that he's too controlling. She tries to ask indirectly if Aurora needs help escaping an abusive situation. Aurora tells her she doesn't need to worry about that. (for the record, niall is definitely shitty, but i do not intend to write him as outright emotionally abusive in this fic.)
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://fromchaos.tumblr.com/) to know when i'll update next. 
> 
> next chapter: what do the other psychics think about aurora? what does niall think about aurora spilling the beans to maura?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Niall, Aurora takes refuge at 300 Fox Way. She and Maura both come to some realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh, it's finally here! this chapter gave me a lot of trouble, but it somehow turned out to be the longest chapter yet. (and dare i say, the gayest? :-o)
> 
> cw/tw: recreational drug use, canon-typical alcohol consumption, very vague internalized homophobia (deets in the end notes)

They’ve been banished to the back porch despite the chilly weather since Jimi insists on burning incense and noxious herbs any time they smoke indoors. If that wasn’t enough, Blue will be starting her first health unit soon, and teenaged Orla has made sure she knows how to throw around the phrase “double standard.”

Maura folds herself up onto the end of a wicker couch while Calla sprawls sumptuously across the length of it. The low wicker table between the two of them and Persephone is a different color, picked up from a different thrift store by a different Sargent woman. Calla lights the blunt with a great big hiss from the lighter and an opaque cloud of smoke. They pass it in silence for a moment, waiting for the high to hit.

Abruptly, Calla pokes Maura’s clothed thigh with her bare foot. Her skin is still warm despite the chill, and Maura leans into the contact. The slightly-too-large-to-be-tasteful anklet she wears jangles. She says, “You’re hiding something.” Persephone nods, owl-eyed.

It shows restraint on Calla’s part that she’s so vague. Psychic snooping is technically against good etiquette, but there’s not much point to the rule. They’ve all lived in each others’ pockets so long that the line between clairvoyance and mundane knowing has blurred. Besides which, it would be absurd to act like 300 Fox Way isn’t full of nosy know-it-alls. Privacy could be had, but usually not for long.

Maura lets herself hog the blunt for a moment as revenge for Calla making her talk about this. Even as she sinks into the haze of intoxication, the nicotine zings along her senses pleasantly. It feels the same way as it does when Aurora says her name. That thought forces out the admission: “I met someone. It’s not actually a thing, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Don’t you tell me what to worry about,” Calla snaps.

Persephone reaches across the table for the blunt. “The someone is married,” she says wisely. She inhales deeply and blows out a cloud of smoke that a dragon might envy. She coughs, small and polite. 

Maura rolls her eyes, and they feel too big and sticky for her eyelids to cover. “She’s hardly married. Her husband has some job that means he’s out of the country for months at a time.”

“Oh, but it’s not a thing!” Calla cries. She and Persephone exchange a look as Persephone passes the blunt.

“Fine, it’s a crush! I can have a crush without it being a  _ thing _ . Persephone has a crush on the damn mailman.”

“His shorts are very well-fitted, Maura.”

“Anyway, I’m mostly… intrigued. She’s intriguing. I’m not going to be tearing apart any marriages over it.” Calla and Persephone share another look. Maura does not have to put up with this. “What?”

Calla leans gingerly over the porch railing to ash the blunt. Her purple-painted lips twist. Maura knows she has the sort of juicy insight that she rejoices in telling other people, things people don’t know about themselves. She just feels conflicted because it’s Maura. “Intriguing is exactly your type. Your high school boyfriend with the trenchcoat was intriguing. That woman with the tattoo that changed colors was intriguing. Butternut was so damn intriguing you let him knock you up. You have a problem.”

Maura gapes at her, too stoned to formulate her defense. They should have broken out the sangria instead. Red wine makes her downright legalistic.

Persephone puts a hand on each of theirs. “Let’s not fight. I’m having a premonition that it will all turn out all right.” Calla and Maura turn twin glares on her. She giggles and steals the blunt from Calla’s other hand with a wink. “Perhaps,” she says a little more seriously, “Calla’s concerns would be alleviated if you arranged a serendipitous run-in with this crush of yours.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary since, as I said,  _ it’s not a thing _ , but you’re always welcome to join me at drop-off or pick-up,” Maura concedes.

Calla wrinkles her nose. “I’d have to duck out of work early.”

“Then don’t come! I really, truly do not give a damn.”

“Oh no, I’m coming. Let those Aglionby bastards struggle without me.”

“Fine.”

“It is.”

The circle well and truly disrupted at this point, Maura goes ahead and yanks the blunt out of Persephone’s grasp. She takes a final puff before putting it out on the porch railing. “Let’s go inside, I’m freezing my tits off.”

* * *

They don’t get a chance to arrange a meeting on neutral territory. The next day, a Wednesday, a knock on the door interrupts an informal family dinner. Most of the mismatched chairs pulled up to the kitchen table are occupied by the kids: Blue, Orla, a couple of her cousin Harriet’s toddlers. Calla stands in the archway between the living room and the kitchen, crumbs scattered around her feet from Persephone’s failed attempts to throw food in her mouth. Maura is eating a fish stick off a paper towel while she leans against the counter.

She leans over to get a peek at the front door, and spots Jimi on her way to answer it. Maura has a feeling about who is waiting on the other side, a feeling that’s equal parts excitement and trepidation. She shoves the rest of her dinner in her mouth unceremoniously. When she breathes into her cupped palm to check her breath, she recoils from her own stench. Nothing to be done about it without a conspicuous trip upstairs.

The door is opened, and Maura hears a familiar voice speaking in unfamiliar tones. She hurries into the living room and gives Calla’s arm a squeeze as she passes her.

Aurora is there, unexpected but not unforeseen. The surprise is the three boys in tow behind her. Jimi tries to shepherd them all in and get the door closed, but quarters are tight between the staircase along the wall and the overstuffed couch that is shoved too close to it.

“Well, hello neighbour,” Maura says from the other side of the room. Ever-attentive Blue has followed her in, and is staring flabbergasted at the Lynches.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, a vision of hospitality.

Aurora busies herself getting her sons inside and needlessly adjusting their coats. “We hate to intrude,” she says in an odd, hollow voice. She won’t look up and meet Maura’s eyes. Jimi steps forward to put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

“That’s my sister Jimi,” Maura says, “Jimi, Aurora.” The two smile delicately at one another. Maura speaks up so she can be heard in the other room. “Orla, can you take Blue and the boys upstairs? Her room or the cat room, it doesn’t matter.”

Blue pouts, “We don’t need a  _ babysitter _ .” Orla wanders out of the kitchen with the pretense of leisure. Maura knows she likes being put in charge, especially when it annoys Blue. Her eyes widen a bit when she sees the small crowd gathered in the room.

“She’s not your babysitter, she’s your wrangler,” Maura says dryly, “to stop y’all from eavesdropping or sneaking out.”

Blue deflates, caught.

Orla smacks her sparkly lip gloss covered lips and gives Declan a critical once over. “How old are you?”

“Twelve?” he answers, incredulous but still with a dry edge of boredom.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, don’t get any ideas. Come on, guys.” She leads the party to the stairs. Declan and Ronan both look about ready to sink into the floor, but Matthew tugs on their hands, and they follow reluctantly after him. Blue is last up the stairs. She gives a final withering stare to Maura before she vanishes to the second floor.

Persephone pipes up from the back of their little party, “Margaritas?”

“You’re psychic, act like it,” Calla grumbles. She shoves off from her post leaning against the wall and leads the way to the kitchen.

“I’ll get the blender down then,” Persephone says. She floats after Calla.

Maura looks at Aurora, who appears lost at sea. She still won’t meet Maura’s eyes. Jimi squeezes her shoulder. They wait there for a moment in silence while Calla noisily commandeers the kitchen. The other children flee looking chastened. Maura murmurs, “Perhaps some tea instead.”

“No,” Aurora says shakily, “I think I’d quite like a margarita. I’m not sure I’ve ever been drunk before.” They all giggle a bit, but Aurora still looks vaguely shellshocked. Maura could reach out and sense the cause of this whole state of affairs as easily as plucking the string of a lonely harp, but she holds herself in check. Aurora had seemed so frightened by that possibility the last time they spoke.

“That was Persephone and Calla, by the way. My best friends. They live here too,” Maura explains. She’s well aware that 300 Fox Way and the unique living situation of its inhabitants can be a lot to take in for newcomers.

They head to the kitchen, and Maura starts clearing off the table. Jimi follows with Aurora in tow and gets her settled at one of the more comfortable chairs that make up the mismatched dining set. Calla and Persephone have managed to get the blender down from on top of the cabinets, and Persephone is still standing on top of the counter in her sock feet. She makes no move to help Calla actually mix the drinks, but she provides running commentary and critique. “More tequila, I think,” she says gently. Then, “She’ll much prefer sugar on the rim.”

Maura sits down once all the dinner plates are in the sink and all the ice trays are down from the freezer, ready for Calla to smash and grind. She hesitantly reaches a hand out to place over Aurora’s. It’s cold and dry but still so very soft. Aurora looks up and makes eye contact with her for the first time all night. Maura hadn’t known how hungry she was for that simple acknowledgement until it was withheld, and the pleased fluttering in her belly overwhelms her nervous dread in an instant. It feels like practicing somersaults in her childhood bedroom.

She opens her mouth to offer some meaningless platitude, but she’s interrupted by the comically loud drone of the blender. The ice cracks and rattles until it’s properly broken down and incorporated. Aurora’s eyes widen and then crinkle in silent humor. The whole time the blender runs, they maintain eye contact. Maura’s palm starts to sweat. She can’t  _ hear _ Aurora’s thoughts, that’s not how her insights have ever worked, but she can feel the rapid pace at which they’re running. It’s like the thudding vibration of many pairs of sneakers on the wooden floor of a high school gym- the classrooms next door shake with it.

The blender shuts off. “Would you like to talk about it?” Maura asks.

Aurora looks down again. “Niall and I had a fight,” she admits after a moment.

“A bad one?” Calla asks from the counter. Persephone has finally hopped down from the counter and is sampling the blended concoction.

She shakes her head. “The only one.”

Jimi must sense the truth of that, but she asks, “Really?” She and Orla’s father had made it work longer than most Sargent women ever managed, but it had never been smooth sailing between them. Aurora nods. “No shit!” Jimi says, amazed. 

Maura hums in agreement. Back in the day, she and Artemus didn’t have fights per say. so much as she would rant at him indignantly and he would go quiet and stare at the nearest tree until she let him get out an apology. Still, she knows Aurora isn’t splitting hairs like that.

“We’re not perfect. I mean, we don’t always get along just so,” Aurora says defensively, aware that she’s said something odd. “He does things I don’t like, and I’m not always the person he wants me to be.”

Calla slides a tall blue glass, filled to the brim, in front of her. Aurora slides her hand out to pick it up and take a loud slurp from it. Maura misses that contact immediately. She doesn’t let herself linger. Instead, she gets up to pour margaritas for herself and Jimi.

They all settle in at the table, clustered around the end where Aurora sits. Her glass is already half-empty. Calla, stirring the pot, asks, “So if you never fought before, what’s changed now?” Maura glares at her, knows from the tone of her voice that she’s trying to lead Aurora to a specific answer.

Aurora considers it. “We- me and the boys, not Niall- used to be a lot more isolated. I’m less willing to put up with his bad behavior. Maybe he feels like he’s losing us because he isn’t the only person in our atmosphere.”

“He’s not jealous that you went out and made friends, right?” Jimi asks, as crossly as she’s capable.

“No. I don’t think so. Well, maybe he is, but that isn’t what he said,” Aurora says. “To be honest, we really only fought about what I told you the other day, Maura.”

The other women jerk their heads around to stare at Maura accusingly. She holds her hands up and says, “It wasn’t my information to share! Go dig up your own gossip!”

Aurora smiles at Maura. “Thank you for your discretion.” To the other women, she says, “Sorry to continue the secrecy, but it’s probably for the best after tonight. Niall would rather decide for himself who to trust with family secrets.” 

“Something tells me it’s not just his secret though,” Calla says dryly. Maura has the same notion, but she’s already made peace with not knowing the whole truth until Aurora is ready to share her portion.

Aurora doesn’t comment, she just takes a long pull from her glass.

“Perhaps,” Persephone suggests, “A reading would help.”

“A reading? Like a Bible passage?” Aurora asks. The assumption is so sweet it makes Maura’s chest hurt. The other residents of 300 Fox Way titter, amused.

Calla shakes her head. “Like a psychic reading. I believe Maura told you about our use of tarot cards?” Maura reaches over to smack her arm gently. The only way she would know about her and Aurora’s conversation is through a little clairvoyant nudging.

“I don’t know…” Aurora says, looking down into her glass.

“I think,” Maura says as quietly as she can, “I might be too close to the problem to shed any light on it.”

“I don’t believe I said that you would be doing the reading, Maura,” Persephone says, casually dismissive. “There are three other capable women at this table.”

Aurora looks at each of the women in turn, clearly apprehensive. The alcohol has turned her cheeks a brilliant rosy red, but she looks remarkably with it. Maura, with her small stature, is usually compromised after just one of Persephone’s drinks. Aurora turns to Maura last of all. “Perhaps you could help, though?” She worries her lip between her teeth in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. Maura is still relieved she’s looking her in the eye now. Maura nods.

“To the reading room?” Jimi asks. In answer, the other clairvoyants rise from their seats. Aurora stands, but she doesn’t immediately follow. Maura lays a hand on her back to reassure her and guide her in the right direction, through the living room. She feels the same oddness, the magic, that she felt the first time they touched, but now it’s tinged with a certain familiarity.  
“It’s really nothing crazy,” she says. “More often than not, the cards just tell you what you already know. At the end of the day, it’s up to you how much to value their input.”

Persephone retrieves her cards from a small drawer in an oversized antique hutch in the corner. Jimi lights several candles around the room instead of turning on the overhead light. Calla settles down at the head of the table in this room, her plastic cup held in her hand as if it were a goblet decorated with precious gems. Maura puts herself and Aurora in chairs side-by-side.

“Three card spread?” Calla asks.

Persephone nods. “Too many factors already in play, any more might lead to further confusion.”

The reading room always feels more intimate than the rest of the house, perfect for exposing hard truths and answering delicate questions. The energy of the work they’ve done there remains; it hangs in the air like spiderwebs coated in glistening dew. Normally, Maura draws it around herself for protection and empowerment. Now, it just hangs there, and she feels naked without it. Maura leans into Aurora’s side. She feels like she ought to whisper. “You’ll shuffle the cards,” she says, “and then Persephone will pull three cards. The first, your current situation. The second, your main obstacle. The third will be advice- you can take it or leave it.”

Aurora nods, and she takes the deck from Persephone. The cards are a little larger than standard, and so they ought to be unwieldy in her hands. Her handling is slightly clumsy from unfamiliarity, but the deck suits her in some strange way. Maura is reminded of the vision she had the day they met: Aurora wispy and transparent against a vibrant fall day.

She places them in front of Persephone, who studies them for a long moment. In an anticlimactic display, Persephone simply takes the top three cards and places them face-up on the paisley-patterned tablecloth. Her hand gestures are graceful but swift and decisive. Maura loves to watch Persephone during readings, how utterly herself she seems with her cards in hand.

The first card she turns over is the Ten of Wands. Ten severe lines suggest the arch of a bridge that is under too much strain. The abstract configurations of Persephone’s deck heighten Maura’s emotional understanding; they make her intellectual knowledge of the cards secondary. “You undertook a difficult situation,” Persephone says softly. Aurora nods, but Maura can’t quite guess what she’s referring to with her limited knowledge of Aurora’s background.

“You’re holding onto too much now,” Jimi says. “The center won’t hold forever.”

“Drop the dead weight,” Calla summarizes.

Maura cuts in, “That’s not quite right. The card suggests that everything you carry is equally valuable to you. It’s not an easy choice whether to let go of any of them.”

Persphone slides her hand over the second card. It’s filled from edge-to-edge with harsh, scribbly darkness, interrupted only by a small circle of paper white in the center. The Moon. “Deals done in the dark,” she says. Maura thinks she sounds almost scared. “Secrecy and illusion.”

“You’re partially to blame,” Calla says. Aurora flinches and stares at her with wide eyes. “The moon can refer to the subconscious- the ugly stuff you’d rather not know about yourself.”

Maura shakes her head. “You may know it, but avoid examining it in the light,” she amends. Aurora doesn’t seem particularly comforted by the distinction.

“But make sure no one is pulling the wool over your eyes. Someone else might have an interest in your ignorance,” Jimi advises.

The final card shows two soft lines moving across a smudgy blue shape. Maura takes a sharp inhale. She knows she hasn’t even touched the cards, but she still worries that her energy has somehow impacted the reading. She wants too much. “The Six of Swords,” Persephone finishes.

“A journey,” Maura explains, “Physical or emotional.”

“You’re breaking new ground, entering a new stage of life. Some things must be left behind,” Jimi says.

“Drop the dead weight,” Calla reiterates.

Aurora closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks at the cards for one long, contemplative moment before she turns away. “I’ll admit I’m not sure what to say.”

They sit in silence for a beat before Calla says, “Well. Let’s get you another drink, hmm?”

* * *

After a while, Maura goes upstairs to check on the kids. She ignores all of Blue’s blatantly nosy questions as well as all of Declan’s subtler digs for information. When she mentions that they’ll be sleeping over, she senses an anxious spike in the energy of the room, beyond what would be normal for three sheltered homeschoolers who’ve never had a sleepover. Maura makes a note to investigate that further once the current crisis is dealt with.

Declan insists upon sharing with Ronan instead of Matthew, who is offended until Maura offers her own bed up for Matthew to share with his mother. Blue and Orla nearly come to blows over the idea of sharing a room for the night, but when Maura suggests that she could instead sleep in the babies’ room, Blue agrees readily enough.

She tasks the older kids with finding the sleeping bags in the spare closet and heads back down to the kitchen. After the reading and another round of drinks, Maura feels too keyed up to sit back down at the table. She meanders around the perimeter of the kitchen until she settles with her back leaning against the doorway.

Jimi is halfway through an amusing anecdote about a cousin’s birthday party. “It turned out the cake was entirely raw in the middle. It practically oozed batter when we cut it! We had to pass around a basket to run and buy an ice cream cake from the supermarket.”

“Wait, wasn’t that the party where you two finally got your act together?” Maura asks.

“If you count getting locked in a closet until we communicated our feelings like grownups as ‘getting our act together,’” Calla says breezily.

“Oh, you two are-?” Aurora looks between Calla and Persephone with wide eyes. Maura wants to hit herself for so carelessly bringing it up, but she’s relieved to see that Aurora looks largely neutral, if politely scandalized.

“We certainly are,” Calla says testily, taking hold of Persephone’s hand.

Persephone stares down at their clasped hands, feigning surprise in her subtle way. “That explains several things about our sleepovers.”

Maura snorts and is relieved to see Aurora laughing too. After a moment, her head sways and her chin lands on her arms, crossed on the table in front of her. “I think,” she declares, “I think I might be a little drunk?”

“And it only took three of our strongest margaritas. Incredible,” Maura intones.

Calla smiles approvingly. “You might be made of tougher stuff than I thought.”

Aurora smiles back at her and holds up a wobbly hand for a high-five. “Yaaay, I’m a real girl,” she says. Maura gets the feeling she doesn’t know she said it outloud.

“All right, let’s get you in a bed before you pass out on the table, huh?” Maura scoots Aurora’s chair away from the table and takes her hands to help drag her up. Aurora rises, stumbles, and falls into Maura’s arms. She stands for a beat with her head on Maura’s shoulder, just breathing deeply. Maura freezes, face hot. She has to remind herself that Aurora doesn’t know what she’s doing, that she’s in a tough place right now besides.

“You smell like fish,” Aurora says when she stands up straight, dopey smile plastered on her face. Maura guffaws in spite of herself. She’s hit with a wave of sheer relief that the weird, hollow Aurora who walked timidly into the house earlier is gone. That rush of reprieve sinks down into her bones and becomes something thick and sticky like honey.  _ Oh _ , she thinks.  _ She’s really fucked. _

Aurora is teetering towards the front of the house and the staircase when she whips around like a seasick cat, and she says, “Niall doesn’t know where we are. I don’t want him to worry.” 

The pleasant heaviness is replaced by a cold shock. Maura berates herself for finding any joy in the situation. Of course, this fight doesn’t mean anything. She’s still in love with Niall, she still wants to make things work. They’re married, they made a commitment for better or worse. The Six of Swords doesn’t change anything.

Jimi asks, “Do you need to borrow the phone?”

Aurora shakes her head rapidly and leans on the banister at the base of the stairs. “No, no. I have, um, a cellphone in my purse. Where’s my purse?”

“In here,” Maura says, spotting it slung over the back of Aurora’s chair. She picks it up to ferry it over to her.

“Would you please send him a message for me?” Aurora asks. “I don’t really want him to know I’m drunk,” she adds softly. She’s looking at the ground almost bashfully, and Maura can’t help but notice how long her eyelashes are, how pink her cheeks are. She scolds herself and digs out the little silver phone from Aurora’s bag.

She flips it open and stares at the tiny screen with some confusion. Calla comes up behind her, weaves her arms under Maura’s, and hits a large button in the center of the keypad. A menu appears, and she selects a little envelope icon. Maura sees three unopened messages in Aurora’s inbox, all from Niall. The first few words of each are displayed from the menu, and she glimpses a “You didn’t have to take…” She catches herself before she reads anymore, and then she stabs a button to choose ‘New message.’

This is quite literally the first text she’s ever sent, so it takes her a moment to get the hang of locating the letters on the keypad and mashing each button the proper number of times. She remembers that she isn’t entirely sober either. Eventually, she has a simple, “Staying at a friends. Boys are already asleep. Back tomorrow.” She thinks it would be unwise to specify  _ which _ friend, given the nature of their argument. Maura shows it to Calla for approval, who goes ahead and hits send on her behalf.

“Done,” she says. She goes back to Aurora and leads her up the stairs with guilt heavy in her belly. 

Matthew is already asleep in her bed, sprawled out in the middle like a starfish. Aurora giggles as she rolls him over to one side and tucks him in. “Nothing wakes him up!” she says in what passes for a quiet voice when someone is drunk. Matthew’s little snore confirms it. Maura fetches her an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. She doesn’t let herself think about Aurora wearing them, Aurora sleeping in them, Aurora waking up wearing them with tangled hair and bleary eyes. She wagers that Aurora doesn’t even wake up with tangled hair.

She points down the hallway to the bathroom and says goodnight. When she turns to go, Aurora catches her sleeve in her fingers. “Maura.” 

Maura turns and is wrapped up in Aurora’s arms before she knows what hit her. Her hair is impossibly soft on Maura’s face, and a faint smell of wildflowers and moss clings around her despite the cold outside and the night of drinking inside. She can’t tell herself that Aurora doesn’t know what she’s doing this time- this was intentional. “Thank you,” Aurora murmurs in her ear. Just as quickly as she was surrounded by her, Maura is left alone in the doorway. Her face burns with the shame of how much that simple gesture meant to her.

She leaves and tries to make peace with a long night of tossing and turning on the couch downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> detailed cw/tw:  
> -maura, calla, and persephone smoke weed and discuss maura's crush. skip the first section if this bothers you!  
> -the psychics and aurora get drunk- this one is sort of impossible to avoid, sorry :c  
> -maura feels guilty about having feelings for a married woman, but she also feels sort of predatory for having feelings for a straight woman. mostly implied, no real way to skip it. sorry again :c
> 
> next time: the holidays keep our milfs apart. aurora and niall's rough patch continues.

**Author's Note:**

> the moms meet! next chapter: a lovely day at the barns, hopefully not ruined by maura and aurora's respective secrets.


End file.
